Hidden kingdoms can be hidden in plain sight. Like here, with blue Wolfsbane receding behind bramble and pink anemones.
I was lucky that I had parents who knew how to look for beauty and who taught me the habit. So when I come out of Weaver's Way in Chestnut Hill and am loading my grocery bags into the car, it is not unusual for my interest to be piqued by this...
Hmmm, what is the old stone wall from and these ruined buildings beyond. And beyond them, is that a charming garden I spy?
What is this stuff and how did it get into contemporary, built-up Chestnut Hill?
So, imagine my pleasure when I was garage sailing one morning and a lovely, gardening couple allowed me into their back yard, where I was lured forward by lulling sights like this...
To turn to one side and see...
That I had stumbled upon one small hidden kingdom without even knowing it. For here in this charming garden that I had hitherto only imagined, lay a reality far more charming than I had been able to imagine.
So--Boo! Ha! And doesn't this recent discovery make for a perfect All Souls' Day post? So the next time you're at Weaver's Way and see that quaint old barn thing...
Remember that the lovely body you are filling with such healthy food is but a bit dust and ash in the long haul!
And that some think something may or may not lie beyond. Of which we can not discern much. But rumor does ascribe great beauty and even greater charm to what, for now, we can at best only imagine.
So prayers now for the beloved dead, if that is your wont. And isn't that a neat lamp on the back of the smokehouse? And, yeah, yeah, the light beyond, etc. Had no idea I was going to go all symbolic when I started this post. But the metaphors just seemed to line themselves up.
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I got to be part of a Halloween celebration that entailed wearing a costume to work. I work in a complex place and it was a complex costume --having something to do, I think, with Katherine Hepburn and time travel and the makings of: a currently mislaid, silent movie from the twenties that inexplicably stars an almost 60-year old Hepburn; "Bringing Up Baby, " and; "The Madwoman of Chaillot." To stifle my usual long-windedness I nicknamed it for the feminist literary crit. classic "The Madwoman in the Attic."
And while I rarely show myself in this blog, I figure this isn't really, me-- so what the hey? Therefore, mix well this small dusting of ash with a big pinch of salt.
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